To the Point
by Wholocked221
Summary: A series of drabbles about the Avengers. Life, death. Happiness, sorrow. Through it all, they get to the point.
1. Name

**AN: Series of drabbles about the Avengers and Co. Prompts accepted.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, unfortunately.**

She does not have a name.

She did, but she was long since forgotten it. It has long since been bleached from her skin.

Black Widow is not her name, but it is what they call her.

Black Widow.

The Woman.

Asset.

That is all she is to them, and she has no name.

One day, she finds someone who gives her a name.

There is a flash of dark purple, a streak of black in the lighter dark of the night. They are running, the nameless man and the nameless woman, and then he draws his weapon. He trains it on her. He could easily kill her. They both know this, the nameless pair.

She thinks he might. He is unreadable.

Until he doesn't.

He moves the arrow, the tip no longer at a leathal place, and he speaks. He gives her name.

"Come with me, Natasha Romanoff."

Natasha Romanoff

N

A

T

A

S

H

A

T

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M

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N

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F

F

It is not her original name, she knows, but it fits her. She slips into it.

He calls her Natasha. Tasha. Nat. Eventually he calls her friend.

The man is called Hawkeye, and she knows that isn't his true name either.

She calls him Hawkeye until she calls him Clint.


	2. Purple

He likes colors. He loves them. He cannot hear very well, his hearing is bad, but he can see, and the colours paint pictures. Sometimes he can almost hear them.

He loves colours, but purple is his favourite.

His first memory is purple. It is the dark swirling purple of the nighttime sky, when he is on his back, looking up, a tent soaring in the corner of his vision.

He decides purple is his favourite colour when he is 6.

He decides twilight is his favourite time because at a certain moment, a moment he always makes sure he's outside, because the sky looks perfect. Swirls and spirals of dark purples and blacks and rich blues, dotted with stars. Mostly he likes the purples.

He sees purple in the cracked mirror when he is 7 and he peers it. It surrounds his right eye. He says he tripped, but it was his brother. He thinks that maybe he is cracked.

He sees purple when he is 8. It is a trick bow, nothing special, and a silly plastic toy a child left behind, but it is purple. He gets used to the feel of it in his hands. He likes it. He sees purple.

He sees purple when he is older, a teenager. He can defend himself, but he doesn't want to. He throws punches and kicks and he grabs for the bow, a new one, but he still has the plastic toy. He sees purple when bruises blossom over his brother.

He sees purple when he sees the plastic pieces of the only thing he's ever cherished in his brother's hands.

He sees purple in the sky when he runs away.

He sees purple in the sky when the man in the suit comes to him and tells him he's with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Espionage and Logistics Division and they want to recruit him. He can almost hear the colour of Agent's suit. It is black and not purple, but he likes it all the same.

He sees purple when Agent hands him a long black case. He knows in his heart what's in it and his heart swells. He opens the case . He smiles. The bow is purple, in actuality, and in his mind.

He sees purple as he runs, the building blowing behind him.

He sees purple as he sees Agent's hands moved swiftly in front of him, forming words, handing him something that will help him hear. Agent is purple in his mind.

He sees purple, his bow, when he has the tip of the arrow at the red woman's throat. She is not purple yet, but she will be soon. Now, she is still red.

He eventually sees purple when he looks at the man of iron, the god, the patriotic captain, and the green one.

When he loves something, he sees purple. He loves more now, even though he is scared to. He sees purple a lot more now.

He looks up at the sky, and when he looks, he sees purple.


	3. Faster, Faster

**AN: This drabble goes out to TheSingingSky, who prompted it. **

_Click, whir, buzz._

The sounds of the computer speed up, faster, faster, until-

_Safe to insert flash drive._

The British voice answers, echoing the declaration on the screen.

_"Safe to insert flash drive, Mr. Stark."_

He thinks, as he always is, and he thinks it is good. He is glad. He likes it when things are fast. He is good at fast. He is not good at slow.

He is always moving, always going, faster faster. He is always thinking, more, more. More knowledge. More technology. He needs his hands to move quicker, faster, because if he slows, he'll stop.

_Faster, JARVIS, faster._

_Faster, Daddy, faster._

Only, daddy wasn't there most of his life. That was one of the reasons why he moved so fast, always moving, always thinking.

If he stopped, he would think about the wrong things. If he stopped, if he went slow, he would remember the bad things. Everything that was his fault. The people who had died because of him.

He moved, he thought. Faster, faster. Always faster. Faster to the next project, faster to the next bottle.

Faster.

Jack Daniels.

Faster.

Mark 43.

Faster.

Scotch.

Faster.

Ultron.

Faster, _faster._

_Safe to remove flash drive._

_"Safe to remove flash drive, Mr. Stark, however I do not recommend this course of action."_

He breathes.

Maybe someday he'll be able to slow down.

But not today.

Today?

Faster, _faster._


End file.
